Powder
by ThinksInWords
Summary: Doctor Molly Hooper meets homeless!addict!Sherlock on the street one day. Like the humanitarian she is, she has to help, in interesting ways. Sherlolly.


Powder

Summary: Doctor Molly Hooper meets homeless!addict!Sherlock on the street one day. Like the humanitarian she is, she has to help, in interesting ways. Sherlolly.

Disclaimer: Yep, it's not me, it's Moffat. And Gatiss.

AN: Long time Sherlolly reader, first time Sherlolly writer. This is the start of a 30 part project I hope to complete. Probably all one-shots.

Also: happy early birthday to Petra Todd… This is my part to the rise of Sherlolly, just in time for November 1st.

The first time she saw him, he was just a random homeless person on her street, holding out a cup she was not going to fill up, because she did not know this guy and she would never give some person money if he was just going to use it to buy drugs.

"Do you want some coffee or tea?," she asked him, thinking of the store on the corner.

"Cigarettes," he managed to talk in a way that demands and asks at the same time. "I can't think without them. My brain is so limited."

This was one of the oddest encounters she had ever had, which was especially interesting seeing as she worked in a morgue and experienced odd things every single day. This man was definitely not the typical homeless person – or the typical drug addict, as his begging for cigarettes was an obvious substitute.

So she was not going to support his addiction.

"I am not going to buy you cigarettes," she was stunned and more than a little disgusted by this. "I could get you some food, but I am not going to purchase your drug of choice."

Still, there was this familiar feeling in her gut, that feeling that told her that there was a sad person who needed her help. And this guy needed her help badly, even though she really was not equipped to aid him with his addiction problems. She was no therapist, and the only way in which she could help people was to figure out what happened to them after they had died. But she really wanted to help this guy.

"I would not expect you to buy me drugs," his wild black curls danced as he sank back down to the ground. "You seem like the moralist type, judging by the modest outfit you are wearing even though you look like you are going out on a date."

Daniel was probably waiting for her at the café, she remembered that much, but she was not as excited about her outing as she had been previously. Sure, Daniel was a nice guy and he seemed to like her, but she was never really sure that she really liked him all that much in return. They had only been on two dates, but she had been bored at both of them, seeing as he talked about his ex-girlfriend a lot, and the only way that could have been more annoying was if they had run into her at the restaurant.

He had actually called the other woman during their date!

"You are not excited about the date," he continued, a wry grin on his face.

"That is absolutely none of your business," she tried to hide how much she liked that grin of his. "Now, do you want my help or not?"

There was a veritable transformation when he smiled, and those ice-cold eyes showed somewhat of a sparkle in them, as he appeared to be looking her over and processing the information that he was receiving from her appearance.

It did make her feel somewhat naked under his gaze, and she had to blush.

"I do not require any help from anyone," the grin was gone, and the calculating look was back on his face. "I only require money to purchase necessities."

This was somewhat hypocritical of him, of course, but no one ever said that drug addicts were the most logical people on the planet.

"Only because your priorities are skewed and you believe that drugs are necessities," she argued with him. "You need to go to rehab."

The r-word seemed to be somewhat of a dirty word to him, which was probably because he had already attempted it himself and had probably also been forced into it by a concerned family member, seeing as that was simply what family members did. It was, however, what he needed, because this guy could conquer everything if only he could just get off the drugs. She knew this in her heart, even though she did not know him.

"I cannot think without them," a shiver ran through him. "I need to think."

Sure, she knows that drugs can open your brain wide; she had studied them extensively at uni. She knows about how cocaine can make your mind race and make you feel like you have all of the answers in the universe. She even gets – in theory – how that might be addicting to some people, especially to a man like him.

But drugs still are not the answer to his problems.

"There are other ways," she explained, attempting to pull him up with one hand. "I could show you, if you are alright with that."

These other ways might be a bad idea, especially seeing as they are total strangers, and she is supposed to be dating another man. Also, leaving an addict dependent on her might be problematic as well. She would do it nonetheless.

He was standing now, and he was taller than she had anticipated. The top of his dark curls came to some height way above her head, even though she was wearing small heels. The top of her head maybe reached his chin. He was overwhelming.

"What would be necessary for this," he enquired, seeming suspicious.

"Kissing," she blushed again, as he was now standing closer.

"You really think that kissing will help me," he was sceptical. "Alright then."

She never expected that he was going to agree to this, so now she was left with actually making the first move, which was not something that she did very often.

He was too tall for her to reach, so she got on her tiptoes and pulled him down by the grimy scarf that wrapped around a graceful neck. She almost missed his lips, and she quickly had to adjust her posture to let her lips land on his.

And she had been right; her heart had raced, and so had her mind. There were so many thoughts in so little time, and most all of them were centred around him.

His lips were moving rather stiffly at first, but they were so soft and remarkably warm for this time of year. His arms had wrapped themselves around her, and were hoisting her up, further into his body, so that she was almost forced to wrap her legs around him in order to support herself. Also, her knees were weak.

He did not seem to be used to kissing, but he got better at it every second.

"You should make yourself available to me for kissing more often," the man had decided after letting her stand on her own two feet again.

"Only if you quit drugs," she decided, righting her clothes.

"Thank you, Doctor," he planted another kiss on her lips and rushed off.

But how did he know?

That remarkable man!


End file.
